


this is his salvation

by mickeysmiddlefinger



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Kavinsky's POV, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 20:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10906668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeysmiddlefinger/pseuds/mickeysmiddlefinger
Summary: kavinsky sees salvation in ronan lynch, but their relationship was never holy.orthe one-shot about kavinsky's complicated feelings towards ronan.





	this is his salvation

Ronan Lynch, sitting on the hood of Kavinsky’s car, crickets chirping loudly to an old cicada song, the smell of petrol still heavy in the air. They are in the middle of the hottest summer night in seven years, overlooking Henrietta from one of the lookout points a few miles out of town. This is Kavinsky’s salvation. Not the light touch of Proko’s pale fingers at night, not his arm hanging drunkenly around Swan on early mornings. This. 

He jumps off the hood, turns his baseball cap around, and lights a cigarette. Ronan watches him with tired eyes. Kavinsky had texted him six times earlier in the day asking him if he wanted to go and blow something up. On the sixth message, he asked if Ronan wanted to know more about the art of dream stealing. He did.  
They have been jumping in and out of dreams for an hour, but Kavinsky can barely remember what he took from them. The faint touch of Ronan’s tongue against his fingertips when he put the green pill in his mouth is still haunting his memory. It’s like a fucking dog that won’t stop barking. 

“You should quit that shit” Ronan says and glances at the cigarette burning between Kavinsky’s fingers. 

“Why?” Kavinsky asks, a smile flashing across his face. “I’m in the best shape of my life.” 

“If this is your best, your life must have been fucking hard.” 

Kavinsky’s smile fades, just for a moment, before the corners of his mouth quirk slightly upwards. “Both in the metaphorical and the literal sense, baby.” 

He smiles at Ronan. Ronan doesn’t smile back. Kavinsky wants to punch a hole in the car window. 

“The dreams-“Ronan begins, but is interrupted by Kavinsky’s loud groan. 

“I am tired of talking about the dreams, man” he says and kicks a stone off the edge of the hill. “It’s always about the fucking dreams.” 

“What else would this be about?” 

Don’t lose it, Kavinsky thinks. Don’t be a pussy. Don’t make him leave. 

“The return of Bonnie and Clyde” he says. “You and me, robbing banks, living the sweet life on the road. Alcohol, drugs, and sex.” 

“You’re insane.” 

“I’m a simple man” Kavinsky says with a smile. 

They look at each other for a minute. Ronan’s eyes scan Kavinsky’s skinny silhuette against the Henrietta lights down below, from the golden chain around his neck to his off-white sneakers. He looks away when he meets Kavinsky’s intense gaze. Kavinsky still hasn’t come down from the amphetamines he popped in his mouth earlier. 

“Fuck, Lynch” he says. 

“What?” Ronan snaps. 

He takes a step forward, almost standing right in front of Ronan, who is still sitting on the hood of the car. Kavinsky shoots a glance at Ronan’s legs, imagining them wrapped around his waist, Ronan’s fingers running through his hair. Fuck. There is no coming back from this. 

“You’re a fucking-“Kavinsky says, but the words get lost before he even gets them out. “A fucking fire, man.” 

“You’re high.” 

“You don’t get it” Kavinsky says warmly. 

“Because you’re making no fucking sense.” 

Kavinsky hasn’t noticed that he has taken another step forward. He’s almost standing between Ronan’s knees, barely one feet away from reaching out to touch his neck, to make him his. He nudges Ronan’s knee, just to see what will happen. It’s like putting your foot on mine field just to see if you’ll explode. Nothing happens. Ronan just looks at him, his lips parted. 

“You’re burning me up, fucker.” 

Ronan closes his mouth and presses his lips together. Kavinsky cocks his head to the side. 

“If you had met me first, would you have burned with me?” 

“First?” Ronan asks. “Before who?” 

“You know who.” 

Gansey. 

“It’s not like that with him.” 

But it is with me. Kavinsky swallows his words. He knows that he can’t unfurl in front of Ronan. That is not their fate. They are fuel, and fire, and hate, and pain, but they are not this. The only thing left to do is to burn. He puts his hand around Ronan’s neck, Ronan’s muscles tensing under his fingers. It lights a fuse in the leftovers of Kavinsky’s scattered heart. Ronan quickly grabs the collar of Kavinsky’s tank top, as if he is going to punch him, or push him away, but he just holds it, fist clenched so hard his knuckles turn white. Kavinsky presses his forehead hard against Ronan’s. 

“You feel that, Lynch?”

Ronan swallows. “Feel what?” 

A smile stretches across Kavinsky’s hollow face. “The explosion.” 

He tightens his grip around Ronan’s neck. After all, there is no salvation for people like him. 

“Tick, tick” he says and lowers his voice into a whisper. “Boom.”

**Author's Note:**

> two things inspired this short drabble: 1) the idea of soft kavinsky and 2) whether or not ronan and kavinsky's fate could have aligned. feel free to come talk to me about how kavinsky deserved better on my tumblr, ravenmechanic.tumblr.com.


End file.
